


It's Not Gay If He's A Cosmic Being, Right?

by Batastic_Grayson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel is Loved (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, Dean Winchester is Loved, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Early Mornings, Feel-good, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Internalized Homophobia, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Morning Cuddles, Multi, OTP Feels, Sam Winchester Knows, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Sneaking Out, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batastic_Grayson/pseuds/Batastic_Grayson
Summary: Dean and Cas have been keeping their relationship under wraps for a while now. Dean crept into bed with Cas most nights and they spent long hours doing...well, you know. When the dawn rolled around, Dean snuck back to his own bedroom and Sam was none the wiser. It was a foolproof arrangement. But Dean really didn't think he'd get so tired of hiding all the time, until suddenly, well...he did. Now he wonders, what's holding him back from going public with Cas?
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 186





	It's Not Gay If He's A Cosmic Being, Right?

It’s hard to quantify when exactly it occurred. What strange culmination of random moments, blind fate, and happenstance resulted in the perfect syzygy that threw the two of them together so perfectly. Why and how, when and where…a million compiled seconds glancing off one another like leaves brushing one another in treetops. It seemed like it only took a few heavy glances, a few moments of blushing silence—maybe their fingertips met one too many times, and then, against all odds—

_They_ happened.   
Castiel’s heart shuddered somewhere in his chest—it never used to do that before—when he felt Dean shift against his skin with a soft groan. There was a time, several years ago now, that Cas wouldn’t have thought to note the different sensations he felt in this physical body. He was so concerned with his mission, with dispelling the emptiness in his middle through obedience, that it never occurred to him that he could learn something from sensation.

Now, though…he was a creature starved for every bit of sense he could find. He drank in the brush of Dean’s skin against him, memorizing the nuance of every motion, every characteristic that made the human so unique. The curl of their feet tangling together, the languorous lines of his arms thrown over a hip, the little puffs of breath skimming across Cas’ collarbone from his parted lips. Dean smelled like Irish Spring shampoo and coffee, and when Cas pressed a kiss to his temple, he made a sound of satisfaction that near curled the toes.

Cas waited for him to grumble a bit against him, shifting to accommodate him further as he curled closer. As he’d grown to expect though, Dean eventually sighed heavily and propped his chin on his chest, looking up at Cas with glossy verdant eyes and sleep-tousled hair.

He gave a crooked grin, lazy and slow as maple syrup, and his voice rasped out, “Mornin’ sunshine.”

Cas wound a strand of his hair around a fingertip, tilting his head, “Good morning, Dean.”

It was a sight that never ceased to enamor him when Dean gave another blustery sigh, dropping his head back to Cas’ chest. “Is it time already?”

Cas shifted, glancing to the alarm clock positioned helpfully on the bedside table. Red, glowing numbers spelled out 6:27 AM in small, blinding print. He knew what it meant. 6:30 was the cut off for bedroom cuddles before they would be forced to separate. He understood the…desire to keep their relationship, especially in its current, vulnerable form, secret. When Dean had suggested they keep it from Sam—“just for now”—Cas had agreed, knowing that it would come out eventually. Perhaps some time in private would make Dean more comfortable before they went public.

Or it would make him more stubborn.

Cas feared it would eventually turn into the latter, but he kept that particular anxiety to himself. It would do no good to spoil the rare, beautiful moments of intimacy they were afforded at night by discussing Dean’s fear of permanence. For now, their arrangement worked just fine. Dean snuck into Cas’ room most nights, usually sometime past midnight when Sam was passed out watching an episode of Frasier or reading a novel, and they’d share six blissful hours of alone time. They’d talk and cuddle and have sex and then cuddle some more. When six rolled around, they went their separate ways and pretended the first time they were seeing each other was at the coffee pot each morning.

It was terrible and wonderful, all at once. But Cas would do it again, because he loved Dean, and it was what Dean needed for now.

So, it was a surprise when the very same man who had begged for secrecy was propping himself up on an elbow a moment later, and watching Cas with furrowed brows and earnest eyes, whispering, “What if I…what if I stay?”

Silence fell like heavy velvet, and for a moment, he thought he might have imagined the question. But it was difficult to deny it when Dean remained watching him seriously, his expression hesitant and drawn, waiting for a response.

Cas blinked, shifting in the sheets slightly so he was eye level with Dean when he murmured, “Do you… _want_ to stay?”

“You know I do.”

He answered so quickly, without a moment of hesitation, that Cas felt a smile hitching at the corner of his mouth. He lifted a finger to trace it mindlessly down Dean’s cheek, savoring the prick of stubble against his fingertip when he clarified, “Are you asking my permission? You know you have it, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, and even in the inky darkness of the bedroom, cloaked in shadow and bare skin, Cas could see the furrow of his brows in a frown. “I just…I don’t feel right lying to Sammy anymore. Sneaking around like we are, it’s just—he’s going to find out soon enough, right?” 

He tilted his head, inhaling a soft sigh, “You know he will. Sam is intelligent, and we aren’t always as…discreet…as we should be.”

Dean smirked, brushing a lingering kiss against Cas’ collarbone with just an edge of teeth, “I’m not exactly known for _discreet_ , babe.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, “So I’ve learned.”  
They shared a whispered chuckle, a few stolen kisses, remembering their late-night mishaps and the vows of silence Dean couldn’t _quite_ keep, no matter how hard he tried. But eventually, they fell quiet again and watched the clock on the bedside table together. It was 6:30 now, and every moment they lingered together felt like stolen time.

Eventually, it was Cas who spoke, fingertips still toying absently with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Is it…is it because I’m an angel, Dean?”

Dean stiffened, the alarm evident in his tone when he pushed back up to an elbow, expression stark and shadowed. “What?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, stomach swarming with uncomfortable pinpricks—butterflies, he believed humans called them. A sign of anxiety. Another thing he never experienced before Dean. “Do you fear Sam’s judgement because I’m…well, not human?”

A moment of tense silence, as green eyes searched a pair of blue thoroughly, mouths drawn and patient. But Dean’s stillness fissured, and his shoulders sagged as he shook his head, voice mellowing into shades of coffee and pine.

“Cas, honestly? It’s because you’re a guy.”

“Well, technically, I’m a cosmic being in a vessel.”

Dean smiled softly, because he’d heard the line before, and he shook his head, “But your vessel, the one I know you as, the one you _are_ …is a guy. And that…well, it might be a problem.”

Castiel blinked, drawing back slightly from Dean who’d drawn close again and was rhythmically tracing a constellation of freckles on his own forearm. “You believe Sam is—homophobic?”

“What? No, no. That’s not—that’s not what I mean. I just mean that…” He sighed, “I’ve never dated a guy before you, and with how we were raised…I’ve got a lot of my own shit to deal with. My dad never had anything really flattering to say about gay folks, and although we unlearned a lot of that garbage, Sam even more than me…I just—”

It was Cas who sighed now, nodding with understanding, “You don’t want to face his disappointment should your father’s ideas linger.”

Dean gave a dry laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face, “God, I’m a coward.”

“Dean, that isn’t—”

“No, it really is, Cas. I mean, we’ve spent how long sneaking around now? A few months? All because I’m too chicken shit to see how my kid brother reacts to us. I mean, come on man. That’s not fair to you and you know it.” Dean shook his head, “And it’s Sam, right? He’s _Sam_. He probably already knows. And the dude’s not gonna care who I’m dating, you know? He loves you! So that’s gotta be in the plus column for us, right?”

Cas assessed Dean for a moment, forcing himself to memorize the conviction in those crystalline eyes. It was a great testament to how strongly they felt about each other that Dean was willing to face his fears and “come out” as it were. For Cas of all beings. It made his stomach feel pleasantly warm, his fingertips tingly, as he leaned into Dean to press their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, Dean. Certainly not on my account.” Cas hesitated, brushing noses together fondly, “If this is all we can have right now, that’s okay. I understand.”

Dean sighed, and the sound was a warm surrender when he pressed his lips to Cas’ and murmured, “No, I’m ready. I’m just really fucking scared.”

They chuckled into each other’s lips, and as if through some unspoken agreement, they curled back into one another and stayed in bed for several more hours. When the clock read 10:00, they rose from the mattress and dressed silently. They left the room with their hands openly linked between them, murmuring to one another about breakfast and the day’s plans. When they entered the kitchen as such, and Sam, nursing a fresh cup of coffee and a thick novel at the table, saw them, he didn’t say anything.

But he did smile in a quiet sort of way that denotes soft, gentle joy. The kind that comes from watching your two closest friends falling deeply in love with each other, finally choosing to live openly. Finally choosing daylight over nighttime, courage over fear, and God it was beautiful. Sam watched the two of them bicker over pancakes from the table, sipping deeply on his coffee, and for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a sight more beautiful than when they casually embraced at the fridge without even thinking.

When they finally joined him at the table, his eyes met Dean’s briefly over the rim of his mug, and he tilted his head with a soft smile. Dean shrugged, as if to say, “I dunno. But don’t mention it.” And so, he didn’t. They ate breakfast together, and it was very much the same as every other morning. Except, this time, there were no secrets to harbor or intertwined fingertips to hide. Just coffee and pancakes and good-natured ribbing.

Well, and monsters. They were the Winchesters, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff! Please feel free to let me know how you liked it below. As always, I don't own the characters, but I do own the story.


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